


The Fall

by rayeliann



Series: A Small Fire in a Dark World [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction, Blood, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Injury, Lyrium Addiction, Recovery, References to Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident for Hadynne has Cullen struggling with his own limitations.</p><p>(It's really important to me that we recognize that recovery from addiction is a process, and it isn't just something that happens over night because someone tells you you can do it.  It's work and its a struggle.  And a support system is so important.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

A loud crash, accompanied by dramatic Tevinter cursing led Cullen to the small room in the depths of Skyhold’s Keep. He had done a cursory investigation of the castle when they had moved in, but had no memory of there being anything of interest in the lower levels.

Cullen had been following the neatly folded note that Hadynne had left for him, as well as a very poorly drawn map to the location. Along the way, he had come across several small, out of the way rooms that he had not known previously existed, as well as a quite extensive wine collection.

The shouting in Tevinter came from Dorian, who Hadynne often employed as her partner in crime. Leliana had offhandedly remarked on their quest to bring some form of order to the library on the second floor of her tower. Hadynne had been furious when Vivienne had flat-out refused to help in the effort. Perhaps the two mages had decided to extend their efforts to cataloguing this room as well.

Cullen pushed open the ancient wooden door and peered cautiously. It was a narrow little room, lined in bookshelves that bowed under the weight of the knowledge they held. A thick layer of dust coated nearly everything, and spiderwebs had collected in the corners and over a few of the top shelves. A gigantic old tome sat open on the table at the far end of the room, which opened ever so slightly from the claustrophobic hallway littered with books that led to it.

Behind the tome, Hadynne balanced precariously on a wooden ladder that looked as if it would crumble at any moment. She was stretched, reaching toward something on one of the higher shelves that held a small collection of oddly shaped bottles, and a few books that scholars had long since forgotten. She held the ladder with only one hand, her full reach extended, balancing on a less-than-solid-looking rung with only one foot. Dorian stood below her, holding the base of the ladder, swearing up at her.

“Inquisitor! I demand you stop that at once. I will not explain your mangled corpse to our fellow companions. Can you imagine the thrashing Lady Cassandra would give me? And dear Madame de Fer… I shudder to think what she might do.”   

“Dorian, you worry too much. I told you, the ladder is perfectly stable.” Hadynne said, waving her arm as she grabbed at the shelf, trying to stretch just a bit further. As if the ladder heard her words, there was a splintering noise, and for just a moment, Hadynne’s hourglass figure hung in the air, wavering as she lost her balance, the ladder splintering out from beneath her. Her fingertips caught the edge of a shelf as she fell, tipping the collection of oddly shaped glass potion bottles forward. Hadynne tumbled to the floor with a melodious crash.

Hadynne’s limp form lay on the dusty floor, covered in broken glass and an array of sticky, colorful potions. Dorian darted forward, crashing through the debris left by the ladder with little trouble. His mustache wavered in concern, his green-grey eyes alight.  

“Inquisitor! Hadynne! Hadynne are you alright?” Dorian’s concerned calling drowned out the strangled, concerned noises that Cullen made as he bounded forward, through the books. Dorian’s gaze slid over him, acknowledging and unsurprised. Cullen supposed they had been expecting him.

Hadynne shifted, groaning as she looked up, shards of glass falling from her hair. Her eyes went wide when she saw Cullen, and rather than an assurance that she was alright, the first words that tumbled out of her mouth were sharp and commanding.

“Stop! Cullen. Not a step closer.” Hadynne snapped, a look of horror on her face as her dark eyes met her lover’s golden ones. She had used her most decisive, commanding voice. The tones in her stern vice reminded him of the first time she had struck him as a strong, decisive leader - back in Haven, as the village burned around them, she had barked out orders with a cool, confident manner that suited a seasoned general rather than a noblewoman or a Circle Mage. He’d heard it echo through the halls of Skyhold when she sat in Judgement, and when he heard it there, in the little room in the basement - he froze, immediately obeying.

So strong was Hadynne’s command that Dorian froze as well, a few steps away from her, in mid-motion, his eyes wide. Hadynne pulled herself onto her knees, shaking the glass from her hair. Cullen noticed she had a cut just above her eyebrow that was starting to bleed, and a few other, small cuts along her jawline and across her collarbone.

“Dorian. Could you please find me some elfroot?” Hadynne asked coolly, cradling her right arm close. As she moved, Cullen could see she moved stiffly, indicative of an injury, and her dress and arm were streaked with blood.

Dorian opened his mouth to protest, his dark eyebrows drawn together in concern as his gaze flitted over her arm, catching everything in a single glance. Perhaps another reason the Tevinter mage and the Inquisitor got along so well. They were both remarkably intelligent, quick-witted, curious students at heart. They both prized knowledge and genuinely enjoyed research and stuffy old books and both were fairly private individuals. But they also both seemed to possess a curious ability to appraise a situation quickly, and were remarkably observant. But Hadynne was clearly a more dominant personality.

“Dorian. Please.” Hadynne repeated, fixing him with a cool stare, her jaw clenching as she tried to mask the pain shooting up her injured arm. The Tevinter mage didn’t need to be asked again, he hurried from the room, hurdling over the ruined ladder and brushing past a still frozen in place Commander Cullen.

Cullen moved to help Hadynne as she locked her injured arm against her chest, her face contorting in a spasm of pain. His heart thudded in his chest, and Cullen was moving around the desk to reach Hadynne before he realized he was moving.

“Stop! Cullen! Get back!” Hadynne responded to his movements, pulling back, away from him. His immediate reaction to her pulling away was one of hurt and confusion. But her face was pleading with him, and he was not one to push. He took a few steps back, and the pain of rejection cut through him as sharply as Hadynne’s exhalation.

Cullen found himself standing awkwardly, looking at his hands, then his feet, the floor, really anywhere that wasn't directly into Hadynne’s big brown eyes. He found himself starting at her injured arm as she clamped her hand over it, blood dripping over her fingers and down her arm. Her dress was ruined. He felt an anger rising in him. _‘Why wont you let me help you?!’_ he wanted to shout at her. He took a deep breath, not sure of how he would say it, but determined to muddle through, to understand why Hadynne had pushed him away.

Hadynne shifted when she heard his sharp intake of breath, the look on her face one of alert concern (why was she concerned? She was the one who had fallen- she was the one in pain). And that was when Cullen saw the giant pool of shimmering blue liquid behind her.

Hadynne had landed directly on top of a giant bottle of very potent lyrium potion. Her injured arm was sticky with it, now that Cullen knew what he was looking for. Her dress appeared to be stained in it as well. It was a fair guess, that if the large bottle that had landed right on Hadynne had been a lyrium potion, there were probably others in the mess around her. That was why she had shouted at him. That was why she didn’t want him close.

“I am so sorry my dear. I never meant to subject you to this. Please, if you need to go…” Hadynne said softly, seeing where Cullen’s eyes lingered. Cullen marveled at her. She had just slipped, fallen several feet onto a very hard floor, been pelted and bruised by falling old books, and showered in a rain of an ancient potions collection. Her dress had been ruined, her arm sliced open, and her face and arms covered in tiny, shredding little cuts. There was no telling the damage to her legs, as she hadn't yet risen, but it was a miracle she hadn’t managed to break one or both of them in the fall. And yet she sat there, apologizing to him. Worried about him.

Cullen felt a strange tug in his bones, an itch in the middle of his palms, and a creeping tingle up the back of his neck, so he took a few extra steps back. He knew it would probably be best for him to leave… but he could not - would not abandon the woman he loved to sit in this dark, dusty basement alone and injured, waiting on the Tevinter to return.

Hadynne’s face tried to mask her reaction to his movement, but failed spectacularly. Her dark brown doe eyes shimmered dangerously, as if she were on the verge of tears.

“Hadynne…” Cullen said softly, taking a step back in her direction.

“Don’t you dare!” Her voice was a bit shrill this time, and it wavered, her lips trembling. “You just stay back.” She whispered, this time her voice cracking on the last word, and going hoarse with emotion. Cullen stepped back, feeling his hands curl into fists. Frustration was boiling in his ribcage, and he felt the brutish need to break something.

Cullen whirled, pacing as they waited for Dorian to return. He felt helpless and weak and not being able to do anything was eating away at him. He knew staying back was the smart thing to do. Hadynne was right. She was always right.

Hadynne was so considerate, keeping her own lyrium potions locked away in her quarters, and refusing to let him kiss her on rare occasions when she had recently drunk one. She’d told him that healing and recovering was a process. It took work, and it was a journey where he put one foot in front of the last. It was not some magical thing that he could say he was done, and that would be it. It was something that would be with him the rest of his life. He needed to learn how to live with it, and what worked for him.

Cullen had done everything right. He had taken things slow. He confronted the pain and the itching in the back of his mind one day at a time. But here he was, letting it hold him back from helping Hadynne. Cullen growled, feeling himself bristle as he paced angrily. His hands itched… why didnt he know what to do with his hands? His arms felt awkward at his sides, just swinging there and useless. He folded and unfolded them, running fingers through his hair, and rubbing the back of his neck irritably. His knuckles popped as he clenched and unclenched his hands, shoulders shaking in frustration.

Hadynne had gone quite pale, and leaned back, against the bookcase behind her, closing her eyes quietly. Her breath had slowed, and her body shuddered as a chill ran through her. Noticing this, Cullen halted his pacing, and sunk to the floor a safe distance away.

“Hadynne. Hadynne open your eyes. Look at me.” Cullen said lowly, his voice coming out huskier than he had intended, thick with worry. Hadynne’s long eyelashes fluttered and opened, her eyes searching his face. Her pupils were huge black orbs in the center of a chestnut brown. Her dark lips curled into a smile as she focused on Cullen.

“Not a bad sight, Templar.” she said wryly, still flirtatious.

“Keep talking, Mage.” Cullen countered in as teasing of a tone as he could muster. Hadynne laughed weakly at the attempt, her eyes squinting and the bridge of her nose wrinkling in amusement.

“Why Commander… I do believe you are flirting with me.”

Cullen’s response was cut short by Dorian’s return, as the mage practically knocked down the door, running toward the fallen Inquisitor. Cassandra and Vivienne followed him, and Cullen scrambled awkwardly to his feet. Vivienne and Dorian saw to Hadynne, helping her to her feet, her dress dripping in sparkling blue lyrium dashed with the coppery-red of her blood. She gasped in pain as Vivienne cleaned the long, deep gash on her arm, and Cullen felt himself step toward her again. He needed to be there for her.

Cassandra caught Cullen’s arm sharply, steering him toward the door. He resisted, but Cassandra’s sharp prodding made it clear there was no arguing with her. Besides, the room wasn't that big, and there were entirely too many people in the cramped space. He would just be in the way.

“Commander. Please, go. She is in good hands. You have done more than enough.”

“I haven’t done anything!” he snarled, his frustrations finally finding a target. “I couldn't help her.” Cullen tore his arm from Cassandra’s grasp, and the Seeker tilted her head, the expression on her face set, even, and so very Cassandra.

“You should have taken yourself out of the situation. You never should have been in that confined space with that much spilled lyr-“

“I couldn't leave her, Cassandra.” Cullen interrupted, his expression outraged by the Seeker’s mere suggestion of such. “I know.” Cassandra returned, sighing.

* * *

Hadynne had been lucky to not sustain any more serious injuries than the few minor cuts and bruises, and the deep gash on her arm. Vivienne had crafted her a poultice that rivaled all others (heavy, lumpy, and incredibly pungent), and had bound it to her injured arm with a tight, neatly wrapped bandage. Madame de Fer had then rounded on Dorian, and informed both of her younger companions that they would be receiving instruction on proper injury procedure, basic herbalism, and trauma care not only from herself, but from the Inquisition’s surgeon in the very near future. Hadynne had been about to suggest perhaps Stitches, the Charger’s medic instead, but a single look from Vivienne had her clamping her mouth shut.

Hadynne had bathed, scrubbing her skin hard with Spindleweed soap, until it was raw and red, and the warm water stung. She had to be sure she was free of every last trace of dust, cobwebs, dirt, ancient grime, broken glass, and especially the sticky potion residue. Her hair received a similar treatment that included overzealous brushing and shaking to be free of shattered glass before she braided it back from her face.

It was late by the time she had finished, the sky darkened with every passing moment as dusk swept in, cool and silent. Hadynne pulled on her thin silk nightgown and a long, wrap-around robe that tied around her waist. It was made of her favorite Dales Loden Wool, and perfect for the chill that hung in the cool mountain air. Her feet found flat slippers, and she slipped down the stairs from her room as stealthily as she could. Her bruised body made moving too quickly a bit difficult, and she could not help but wonder how she planned on sneaking her way through the Great Hall.

Hadynne opened the door at the bottom of her little staircase to reveal a pacing, nervous-looking Cullen. He was armor-less, wearing a simple red shirt and brown pants, his muscles silhouetted pleasantly by the shadows cast across his body. His hair was tousled, and he was clearly worrying over something, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he paced. He had crushed a few wildflowers in one hand, but had clearly been dithering for a while, as the flowers had already started to wilt.

“Oh!” Cullen exclaimed, noticing Hadynne grinning from the now-open doorway. She leaned heavily against the frame of the door, her good-arm propping her up. Cullen’s eyes traced her slender hourglass figure that had only been accentuated by her slim, tightly drawn robe, and the lazy way stance she had adopted, popping her hip out, her body creating a serpentine curve. Cullen felt his mouth fall open as he suddenly found words entirely inadequate.

“I’m either dreaming, or I’ve lost track of my own nameday.” Hadynne quipped, not waiting for a response as she reached out, grabbing ahold of Cullen by a handful of shirt, and dragging him inside. She would have completed the odd greeting with a kiss, but Cullen’s mind seemed to be elsewhere.

“Something on your mind dear?” Hadynne asked when Cullen didn’t volunteer the information, but instead continued to look as if he was attempting to do arithmetic in his head. She’d led him up the stairs, and over to her couch, taking a moment to place the flowers Cullen had offered silently onto the mantle.

“I should have been stronger. I should have helped you.” Cullen said finally, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and the skin around his eyes starting to crinkle as he frowned. This was clearly bothering him.

“You should have left. I am sorry I put you through that. It was reckless of me to be on that ladder.” Hadynne countered, wrapping Cullen’s hands in her own as she sunk into the couch beside him.

“Accidents happen. You should not have to worry about me, not for something as small as this. This should not have been a problem. I should be stronger.”

“Cullen, you are not weak. Do you realize the amount of strength you showed today by just being able to be in that small room with me? Recovering from what the Chantry did to you - how they controlled you - it will be a process and it will be work. It isn't magic, it doesn't happen all at once because you want it to. But you can do it, and I will be here to help you.”

“What if…what if next time Dorian isn't there to get help? What if next time I cant help you because of … because of this?” Cullen’s voice wavered, and it was obvious this was the question that had been wearing on him.

“This will not happen again.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, we will not have lyrium in our house. There is no reason for it. And -“

“Our house?”

“What?”

“You said ‘ **our** ’ house.” Cullen said, smiling at Hadynne as her eyes went wide as she realized her words. She looked as surprised as Cullen at her slip of the tongue.

“Y-yes. Our house. Where we will grow old. Together.” Hadynne said slowly, almost shyly. Except Hadynne didn’t have a single shy bone in her body.

“You…You still want me after this?” Cullen asked, his voice hesitant and sounding a bit like he could not believe his own good fortune. Hadynne chuckled in response, nuzzling her nose into his cheek affectionately. His stubble raked across her nose, tickling and sharp.

“Of course I do!  I love you, you big-“ Hadynne’s playful insult is lost as Cullen’s lips close over her own, beckoning her closer, pressing hard against her own with an insistence that sent a thrill rushing through her. She chased them with a shaky little breath, feeling a familiar pull in her stomach as she wondered if he can tell she’s been waiting for this all day.


End file.
